


conflicts of interest

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: D/s Dyamics, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grad Student Hermione, Miscommunication, Muggle AU, Secret Relationship, Teacher Assistant Draco, Two truths and one lie, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: A moment shared amidst the chaos of a party leads Hermione onto a roof with Draco Malfoy. What follows sends both of them on a path that begins and ends with a game. Too quickly, the rules begin to blur, and Hermione's not sure what it means to win anymore--or what she stands to lose.Or, Draco Malfoy is a teaching assistant and Hermione is a student.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 95
Kudos: 266





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this on NYE and haven't run out of steam yet. This is a Muggle AU, in which Hermione is a grad student, and Draco is a teaching assistant. Now, I'm aware of the fact that TA's are not a thing in the UK. For sake of this story, I'm going to suspend belief since this was largely an excuse to write obscene levels of sexual tension, and explicit smut (when we get there). It's outline for ten chapters, but could easily go up to eleven or twelve.
> 
> Tags/Warnings consist of: miscommunication, explicit sexual content, D/s elements, dirty talk, possible language that is degrading but has been consented to by both parties, and some angst thrown in there because I am d r a m a t i c. 
> 
> Thanks a literal million to everyone who pre-read this and also to cnova who helped me plot basically everything in a single day.
> 
> This story was heavily influenced by the published novel The Hating Game by Sally Thorne. I am head over heels for this novel, and can't wait for the movie adaption.

* * *

Daphne's arrival is punctuated by the slamming door that leads into their apartment, the way her heels click against the wood floor, and the intake of breath that comes right before she means to yell.

"I'm right here," Hermione calls, slowly closing the textbook that's cracked open across her lap. "No need to yell. Our neighbors have already complained once, in case you've forgotten."

She rounds the corner, and leans over the back of the sofa. Arms crossed at her wrists, Daphne arches a brow while she looks Hermione over. "I thought you said you were done studying?"

Hermione shrugs. "Professor Snape always adds an extra section for these quizzes, you know that. It doesn't hurt to be prepared." She sounds more casual about it than she really is. Hermione's more concerned about this class than her others, and both of them know it. "Are you leaving again?"

"Yes," Daphne pushes her hair back, and flicks her eyes toward Hermione's pajamas. "There's a party at Draco's, and I don't want to go alone. Do you think you could come with me?"

There's room to say no, just like always. Daphne has the good nature to look guilty for asking too, but she looks so hopeful that Hermione can't tell her no. "I'll go, but only for an hour."

"Two?"

" _Two_." Hermione holds up as many fingers. "And that's all. Not even a minute more, alright?"

Nodding quickly, Daphne rushes toward her, pulling Hermione up out of the chair. "Theo is going to pick us up in ten minutes so get changed as quickly as you can." Even though she says that, Daphne follows her into the bedroom anyway.

Hermione leans in the doorway while she rifles through the closet, knowing it's easier to just go along with it.

* * *

Lights pour through every window of Malfoy Manor. There are at least a dozen people on the lawn, some of them sitting in a fountain that's not made for that. There's a boy pulling flowers from a bed just below the windows in order to give them to a girl that's just as drunk as him.

Theo grimaces, fingers tightening around the wheel. "Draco's mum is going to be pissed when she sees that."

Hermione nods, and leans against the door. She's been here a few times, each of those times because Daphne was dating Theo. And there was rarely one of them without the other. The pair of them were sickeningly cute together.

"We're only staying for a few hours." Daphne repeated for another time.

"Two," Hermione corrected.

Theo laughs. "I got it, Hermione. I'll get you out of here right at the two hour mark."

"If you're enjoying yourself, I can take a cab." Honestly, she hates to interrupt either of them if they're having a good time. And they will. Theo is the best friend of Malfoy, and Daphne had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere. Especially at a party like this.

Daphne twists around in her seat. "Absolutely not. We'll go home together and then we'll watch a movie."

She'd planned on fitting in one final hour of studying, but Hermione's willing to concede on this.

Once out of the car, Daphne links her arm through Hermione's and leads them both through the front door. Theo is not far behind, his voice gruff as he tells someone to stop fucking with the flowers.

There's no room inside, Hermione thinks as they press through the crowd. There are couples dancing all around them, and far across the room, there's a blonde dancing on a table with a man Hermione's certain shares a class with. Daphne bumps her hip against Hermione's and says over the noise, "Go to the kitchen."

Even if there was no one in the manor, Hermione doesn't think she'd know where to go even then. A few trips couldn't begin to cover just how large this house was, and nearly every time she'd been here, it had been overflowing with people.

The kitchen is full too, but Daphne elbows her way through. "Do you want a drink?"

Someone brushes against Hermione as they pass her, and all she can think of is leaving right then. There's just too many people, enough to make anyone nervous. Swallowing, Hermione forces an awkward smile that probably looks just as it feels. A drink would take the edge off, enough that a part wouldn't feel so overwhelming. "Sure."

One drink is never one drink, she knows though. Daphne never stops and it's easy to be taken away with how fun it is to laugh while liquor burns a path down her throat. "You sure?" Daphne giggles, holding two shot glasses. "Hermione, you're a terrible drunk."

"I'm not." And that's true. She isn't. Hermione is good at everything she does. "You're the one who can't hold their liquor. How many times have I had to hold _your_ hair?"

Daphne points a finger at her the best she can while holding the glasses.

"She's right, you know." Theo's voice rumbles behind Hermione. "You can't hold your booze for shit."

Hermione beams.

"Greengrass is right too though." Draco stands to the side of her, leaning against the table. "You are a terrible drunk."

Jutting her chin up, Hermione rolls her eyes.

"It's not an insult," he spreads his hands open. Malfoy's hair falls in his face, and she chooses to focus on that rather than the smirk that curves his mouth. "You're a bit clumsy anyway, but it's so much worse when you're drunk."

Well, he's right. Choosing not to respond to that, Hermione takes the shot and swallows it in one go. The taste isn't bothering her anymore, probably a sign that she's certainly had enough, but then she's the one that pours the next one. "How long have we been here?"

"You're trying to get out of here already?" Daphne groans. "We're having fun! How about this," she takes Hermione's hand. "We'll take the bottle and get away from the people. Would that be better?"

Draco clears his throat. "The bedrooms upstairs may already be occupied. I wouldn't open any of those doors if I were you. I know a good spot though."

While gripping the bottle by the neck of it, Hermione follows Daphne and Draco. Theo's behind her, grumbling under his breath. Something about a _bloody terrible idea_ , and Hermione looks over her shoulders. "What's that?"

His eyes widen. "Nothing."

Between floors, Hermione loses Daphne's hand. Spurred on by Malfoy's voice, "Just a bit farther, yeah?" Hermione doesn't think to look behind her. As they reach a door, and Draco unlocks it, she finally does and her best friend is nowhere to be found.

"Daphne?" Saying her name does nothing when the corridor is full of people, but none of them are Daphne. She can't pick out Theo either, who would be taller than anyone there. "Do you know when we lost them?"

He shakes his head. "No idea. They're probably in one of the spare rooms."

Hermione knows that's not the case. Daphne had known she didn't want to come, she wouldn't have left her without telling her, and she definitely wouldn't have left her with Malfoy too. "I'll go—" She stumbles over a wrinkle in the carpet, and a strong arm loops around her waist.

The bottle dangles from her fingers.

"Careful." His breath is hot against the back of her neck, and her stomach rolls as she straightens. "Do you really want to go back down there?" Her face must give her away because he chuckles. "I'm sure she'll be back before you want to leave. If you want to get away from the crowd though…"

"I thought you said all the bedrooms were taken already."

"This one's mine. I keep it locked during parties."

Hermione blinks several times. "And you're trying to take me into your bedroom while I'm drunk because no one will bother me there."

To his credit, his cheeks color a bit.

"Do you have any idea how that sounds?"

He clears his throat with some difficulty. "I hadn't thought about it, honestly. I assure you that I am not trying to take advantage of you, Granger."

Well, she feels a little silly just thinking that might have been the case. He's a menace, truly, but they're several years out from any cruelty on his side, or anything terrible.

"And," he begins, the one syllable rushed. "Technically I'm not taking you to my bedroom. I'm taking you somewhere else, but we have to go through my bedroom to get there."

Her brows furrow. "Alright." Hermione follows him inside, flexing her fingers on the neck of the bottle, and pauses once she's inside. "You should lock the door or you'll find someone in your bed."

Malfoy snorts, and twists the lock. "There's only one place where you can be alone in this place when it's full of people."

"Naturally you would know." It's odd, standing here with him. The lights are off, but light from the yard below arcs through the window. It shouldn't feel intimate, but somehow it does with him staring down at her. "Well, where is it? Or was this really a ploy to get me in here? You've outdone yourself if so. I even told you to lock the door."

He laughs again. "The best place in the manor is the roof." Malfoy moves toward the window. Through sheer curtains, she can see the slant of the roof, where it drops off, and swallows. "Don't look so scared. I promise you won't fall."

If she did though, it would be a long way to fall.

Hermione crossed the room, still skeptical, and watched him lift the window. The roof was flat where they would sit, and a bit farther than that, she can see where it slopes downward. "Are you positive I won't fall? I have been drinking, you know and you're the one who pointed out how clumsy I am."

Malfoy's grin is wicked, and he tugs her forward by the hem of her shirt. "I'm not going to let you fall. Besides, it would be pretty hard to fall anyway."

She doubts that.

He goes first, pulling one long leg to his chest before stepping out the window and sliding the rest of the way through. "Give me the bottle, Granger."

Hermione's legs are shaking as she climbs out of the window, and slowly stands beside him. The roof is solid beneath her, and she looks at him instead of the ground, which really doesn't feel so far away. She follows him across the roof, across the short space, and sits beside him.

The wind rolls past them, and she brings her knees to her chest. "I feel like you must come up here often."

"Astute observation. I did more when I was younger, and I don't live at home anymore, so." He shrugs.

"Right," Hermione drags the word out. "You just choose to throw parties in your parents house."

"My flat is terribly small in comparison. Plus, these animals would destroy it. Though," he rubs his jaw. "Theo told me it would be an intimate gathering. I should have known he would start shouting over a party, and this would happen."

"Have you seen what's happened to your mother's flowerbeds?"

Draco drags a hand down his face. "Fuck. She'll make me plant those again and she'll make me do it over and over again. She'll say they're not like they were before."

"Poor little rich boy." Hermione uncaps the bottle, and watches his gaze settle on her face. "Did I strike a nerve?"

He reaches out, and pulls the bottle from her hands. His eyes close when he takes a drink, and he grimaces as he hands it back. "That tastes awful. You'd think for my father's best whisky, it wouldn't be so awful."

The words _father, best, and whisky_ make her freeze. "I didn't know this belonged to your father. Daphne pulled it out. This probably costs more than my _rent_."

"Depends," his tongue slides against the seam of his lips as he says it. "How much is your rent?"

That's enough of an answer. "Will he be angry?"

"I sincerely doubt he'll notice for a few weeks. Besides, he'll blame me for it, and then we'll move on. Don't worry about it, Granger. Besides, I think you're enjoying it quite a bit more than he would have."

So, she takes a drink.

And then they're passing the bottle back and forth.

He drinks more than her, saying it's to keep her from overdoing it, and then he reminds her of the one—and only—time she threw up during a party. _Fair,_ she says to that, and watches his lips frame the spout as he tilts his head back.

She loses track of time, too. Somewhere, Daphne must be looking for her unless Daphne already knew exactly where she was. Hermione knows it's close to two hours now, and Theo had promised to get her home, but now— Hermione's hoping neither of them come to get her.

"Play a game with me." Hermione says, her voice softer than she means for it to be. Maybe that's what gets his attention, or maybe it's what she's said. She doesn't know, but Malfoy's eyes fixate on her.

"Alright." Where her voice is soft, his is rough. Ragged.

It does something to her.

"What do you have in mind?" He waits a few seconds, and when she doesn't answer, he carries on. "Tell me two things that are true about you, Granger and then a lie. I'll guess which is the lie."

She swallows another drink, and the thought that her lips are where his have just been comes over her again. "Any other rules?"

"Well," Draco clicks his tongue. "It should be interesting truths."

Hermione doesn't ask him what that's supposed to mean, and thinks for a moment. He wants it to be _interesting_. She can manage that. "The weirdest place I've had sex was in a boy's locker room. I snuck a boyfriend into my room as a teenager. And…" She trails off to think, and does her best to ignore how his mouth has fallen open. "My dad caught me in the backseat of my boyfriend's car."

He's silent.

"Okay, I admit they're not very good, but you wanted it to be _interesting,_ so—"

Draco audibly swallows. "You mean to tell me that only one of those is a lie?" His voice sounds strangled, and she wonders if she's taken it too far.

_Should have just said I failed a class once._

"Yes," Hermione says slowly. "Only one of those is a lie. Can you guess which one?" It had been a fun night until she'd gone and made it awkward.

He takes a long drink, and his fingers turn a stark white where he grips the bottle. "The locker room."

She hadn't considered the fact that she'd have to admit which one was a lie. Hermione shook her head. "I was never caught."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Draco takes another drink. "A locker room?"

Slowly, she nods. "Sorry. It was too much information. I'll—"

"No," he says forcefully. "I wasn't expecting it. There's nothing wrong with it. I was just surprised."

"I'm not a prude." Hermione rolls her eyes. "I like to excel in my studies, but it's—well, they say it, don't they? That it's always the quiet ones?" Instantly mortified, heat climbs up her neck. God, she is fucking pissed.

"Well, it seems I've had that proven to me now." Draco mutters. "My mother walked in on me while I was wanking. I was caught looking at porn during a Christmas dinner on my mobile. Once, I tried to use a tape measure to measure myself, and mistakenly cut myself instead."

Hermione roars with laughter, her head falling backward. She nearly drops the bottle when he hands it to her. "Oh, my God. I can't believe only one is a lie. All of those are ridiculous!"

"Do you feel more comfortable now?" He rolls his eyes, but mirth is written across his face. "Come on, Granger. Guess the lie."

"I sincerely hope it's that you were looking at porn during Christmas dinner." Draco grimaces. " _No!"_

"Yes," he combs his fingers through his hair. "Not that it makes it any better, but I was thirteen years old, and had only recently discovered porn. God, there were so many people there. I thought the sound was off, but no."

She chokes on her own laugh. "The tape measure? Really? Why wouldn't you use a ruler?"

"It was the first thing I found!" Draco defends himself. "Theo didn't have any problems with it, and he's the one who told me to do it!"

"You both…?" She's giggling again.

He looks like he wants to be mad about it but he can't manage it. "Well, not at the same time obviously. He made a bet that his cock was bigger, so naturally I had to prove him wrong."

It's the whisky that's loosened her tongue. That's the only reason she says, "Did you?"

Draco smirks, like it's an answer, and it's the only one she's going to get.

With another laugh, Hermione launches into the next one. "Fine, since you've embarrassed yourself. I once sent an explicit text message to the wrong person, who then thought I was interested in him. I've had sex in a public pool. And once, I had to pretend I wasn't having sex when my boss called me."

"The text message. You're too thorough for that. I bet you check who you're sending it to a dozen times before you send it, and I bet you check it after too."

She nods. "You're right. I've never sent a text message like that to the wrong person."

"So, your boss called you?"

Hermione reddens. "It was a few years ago. I'll spare you the details."

"By all means, Granger. Carry on. I'm interested."

If there's a line, they've passed it now. So, Hermione doesn't think twice about it. "Yeah. Viktor had woken me up by going down on me, and when I got the call, he told me to answer it."

She watches him swallow. "Krum?" He asks then.

"Yes."

"Is that the same boyfriend from the other truths?"

Something about this feels like stepping off a ledge, but he's made her curious so she does it anyway. "Yes, he is. Viktor was my only serious partner, but if you want to learn anything else, you'll have to guess the lies."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I've shagged on the hood of my car. I've fingered my girlfriend beneath the table in a restaurant. I've participated in a threesome."

Taking a moment to consider which is the lie, and not imagine him in either of the other options, Hermione can feel her mind spinning. Honestly, her imagination is not on her side tonight, and rather than a faceless woman with him, she imagines herself. It's the whisky, nothing else.

But with the way he's looking at her, Hermione wonders if he's thinking the same thing.

"You've never participated in a threesome."

"Right you are, Granger." He's leaned in toward her, and he's grinning again. "Seems as though we're even now."

It's her turn to swallow. The sound of the party carrying on beneath them, the music growing louder beneath where her fingers rest on the roof, fades as she blinks. "One of us has to win." Hermione murmurs. "Are you going to forfeit?"

His fingers curl around her wrist, and he shakes his head. "Your go then." For a moment, it looks like he's going to close the gap, and she desperately wishes he would.

"I've had a one night stand. I've had a pregnancy scare. I always swallow."

Draco's fingers tighten around her wrist slightly, and she watches the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Surely not."

"Wouldn't be a bad way to go though." Draco raises his hand and traces the bow of her lips with his thumb while his hand cups her cheek. "Swallow." He rasps. When she shakes her head, he groans. "You don't play fair, do you?"

"Not usually." Hermione takes the last drink from the bottle. "I've never missed my monthly. Never had a scare. I've had a one-night stand though."

His finger traces her mouth again, and her shiver has nothing to do with the breeze. "And you always swallow."

Hermione's lips part, and she sucks his thumb into her mouth. She doesn't break eye contact as she swirls her tongue around the digit, and watches his eyes darken on her. Hermione pulls backward, her heart hammering in her chest. "Yes, that's right.." It's a whisper.

"You won." The rings that decorate his fingers glint as he cups her jaw, tilting her head up. "What would you like for a prize?"

Hermione shifts to sit on her knees, and holds his face in her hands. "Just this," she whispers and slants her mouth over his.

Draco's only surprised for a split moment before his arms come around her waist, and she's pulled into him. His mouth is hard against hers, his tongue tracing the same path his thumb had, and his fingers dig into her hips so roughly she thinks— _she hopes_ —it will bruise.

She's not sure who moves them. Whether it's her, or if it's him, but she knows how the roof feels against her back as he hovers over her. His hands are flat against the roof on either side of her head. Hermione's giggling under her breath when she pulls at his belt, and he hisses that her hands are freezing.

"Truth or lie," her words are muffled against the hollow of his throat. Then she peeks up at him. "You've never fucked a girl on the roof."

He groans, "Truth."

Hermione arches her back when his mouth slides down her throat, and his tongue dips against the swell of her breasts. His fingers inch up the hem of her shirt. "I swear to God if you don't take off your pants right now that I will never forgive you."

Draco snorts a laugh. "Granger, wait. We should—" His catches her hands, and the seriousness of his expression causes her to still. "Just listen to me for a minute, yeah?"

"I really didn't think his plan would work." Theo's voice carries across the roof, and Draco drops his forehead to her shoulder as he rights her clothes.

Whatever he'd been about to say is gone with the interruption, but Hermione can't think past the blood pounding between her ears. Draco had stopped them, entirely. "For your sake, I hope this is an emergency." Draco snarls.

When Hermione looks to the side, Daphne is there too, and she looks positively giddy. "I don't want to go home anymore. I don't care if it's been two hours. Go away." What had Draco been about to say?

"No can do, princess." Theo shakes his head. "We have a problem downstairs. Marcus picked a fight with Adrian and now they've wrecked most of the sitting room. Adrian is threatening to call the police now."

Subtly, Hermione buttoned his trousers. "You should deal with that. We'll pick this up later, yeah?" Even though she says it, Hermione couldn't help but shrivel under the stares of their friends.

He helps her to her feet, and then he helps her through the window like he had earlier. With a quiet promise that he'll be right back, Theo and Draco leave her and Daphne on the top floor.

* * *

Adrian Pucey did decide to call the police, Hermione learns when they're close enough to hear him yelling. Even then, she'd planned to wait it out.

But Daphne tugs her forward when it's clear that Draco isn't going to be free anytime soon, and he meets her eyes from across the room with a slight nod as she's led out the door.

Before Theo's pulled out of the driveway, her phone vibrates. Daphne is talking, and Hermione hums a response.

The message is from an unknown number, but she knows it's Malfoy from the message alone.

_Let me know when you're home, if that's alright?_

Her stomach is in a knot, and her mind is still reeling, but Hermione replies when she's home.

_Home and climbing into bed. Are the police still there?_

No reply comes, which is a reply on its own.

* * *


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to cnova for prereading and wordsmithmusings for catching my hot mess typos.

* * *

Hermione stays in bed for longer than she should. Keeping her arms still at her sides, her fingers lightly digging into the sheets that are cooler than the night before, she hopes she may be able to trick her body into believing that she's still asleep. It's late enough in the morning that her alarm is going to go off any moment anyway, but she can't bring herself to move even one muscle.

The night before crops up in flashes, but not a single thing is left out because they keep going. She remembers the way Malfoy looks when he's grinning, and her stomach is in fucking knots because that smile has never been directed at her. The memory of his mouth on hers is vivid, and the feel of his hands unforgettable.

Breaking her resolve not to move, Hermione's fingers trace a small patch of skin, and she's quiet in the realization that she knows exactly where his had been. Right there. A bit to the side, and back again.

The things she had said, the things she had _done_. And that doesn't even begin to cover exactly how forward she'd been. Which is: _very_. It would be nice - preferable - to say she has no idea what came over her, but that's not the truth either.

It's the smile. With him sitting beside her on a roof that he led her too, and passing a bottle of whisky back and forth. She'd wanted to catch him by surprise, to make herself more interesting to talk to, and well, Hermione's certainly done that. What she's also done is created an air of something she's not.

Flirtatious. Forward. Interested.

She's probably the last one. Without a doubt, really. Even now, she squeezes her thighs together at the memory of him pressing her against the roof. Maybe flirtatious, given the right set of circumstances, which turns out to be liquor. Hermione's not forward in _this_ though.

The alarm goes off over her head, and her hand shoots up to slam the button. Her phone alarm follows, and she shuts it off, then pushes it under her pillow.

She'll give herself a few minutes, then she'll crawl out of bed, and deal with the day. It's all she can do to run through the facts. At least those are solid, but as she begins, she realizes how little of those she really has.

Facts.

She'd rather not face Malfoy again when she considers his voice above her, soft but ragged, while he's putting the brakes on what they're doing on that roof.

It is overwhelmingly, glaringly obvious just how attracted she is to him, even though she's never given it any thought before. Hermione has always known that Malfoy is nice to look at, but she's never thought of what it would be like to sink her fingers in his hair.

That's where the facts run out.

There's the thought that she'll never drink again, that she'll swear off roofs as embarrassment really sets in. God, she's really gone and put herself completely out there, but it plays over and over again. The few seconds before Theo and Daphne interrupted them. Draco saying to wait, that they shouldn't, but that's as far as he gets before he cuts himself off.

 _God_.

The text message from the night before is still there, and the reply from when she'd gotten home. There's no reply after that. Just two message bubbles, and she begins to type an apology when she realizes why she'd needed to get home early in the first place last night.

There's a quiz for the first week of Professor Snape's class.

Fuck.

Hermione barely has time to pull the textbook into her hands before rushing out the front door. Daphne's voice follows after her, but she doesn't stop.

* * *

Between pressing her foot on the brake, and working through the information she'd studied the night before, Hermione has her mobile in one hand while driving. She can get in front of this. It's just a text, and it doesn't have to be a long one. Simple. An apology for throwing herself at him, and hoping she hadn't made it uncomfortable.

But Malfoy can surely move on from it. Somehow, Hermione doubts this is the only time it's ever happened. Drunken mistakes happen all of the time.

Maybe she'll add never drinking again to the mental to-do list.

She's part way through that exact message when she finds a parking spot, but she's late enough, so she'll finish it after class. No putting it off.

Easy.

* * *

Her fingers are flying across the screen even as she walks out of the lecture hall. Hermione's thumb is hovering over the last button to send it when she feels eyes on her, and she lifts her head.

And ice forms in her veins. Across the large corridor, Malfoy is standing with his hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers, and he looks impossibly well together. Hermione knows that she must look like someone who'd been drunk the night before, and slightly hungover now.

Gone is the playful look she'd learned last night, and her stomach drops. He shifts his weight, and the toe of his shoes are facing her, as though he's about to start in her direction, but Malfoy turns away instead. Hermione's eyes remain fixed on his back all the way until he's out of sight.

With a knot in her stomach, Hermione erases the message, and wonders just what exactly she's done.

* * *

On Friday, there's a party. Daphne mentions it in passing, but only once, and even says that it will be at Theo's this time. Hermione doesn't look up from the textbook cracked open in her lap. Around her, there are papers scattered everywhere, and still, it's not nearly enough to distract her from what Daphne dangles in front of her.

She doesn't know if her friend has pieced together the truth since Hermione hasn't told her anything other than the fact that it was a mistake. Fueled by alcohol that didn't even come close to burning her insides like Malfoy's stare had.

Daphne clears her throat. "I don't think Draco's going to be there tonight. He's probably worried about running into you too. You know, the awkwardness…" She trails off, and her dress swishes at the back of her thighs. "You don't have to feel uncomfortable. Things like this happen to everyone, eventually."

Hermione's not sure if she'd say the same thing armed with the truth. It's Hermione who hadn't bridged the gap-though Malfoy could have done the same thing-but she'd seen the look on his face the morning after. Nothing short of contempt had been written there, and she's in no hurry to see the same look up close again.

Besides, she wouldn't be able to stand in the same room as him without replaying his hands on her, his mouth slanted across her own. That's already a problem on it's own when she goes to bed.

Daphne doesn't know about any of that.

Hermione flips the page. "No, thank you. With my luck, he'd show up the moment I did."

Daphne shifts her weight to one foot, and her shoulders fall. "Do you want to get dinner? There's a movie I want to see."

"I'm studying," comes the short reply. "I know you're just trying to make me feel better. You should go to Theo's, really. I'll be fine here."

"It's a romantic comedy and it's not just about making you feel better. I told Theo I wanted to go, but as the stereotypical man, he's managed to weasel out of it every time. Besides, we haven't gone out in a month."

Hermione arches a brow. "We went out last weekend, and look how that turned out."

When she holds her hands up in mock defense, Daphne knows she has Hermione. "Just us tonight. I swear I won't let you kiss anyone else, even if you beg me to leave." A few seconds pass while Hermione tries to decide. "Please. You're sad."

She closes the book with a sigh and gathers her papers. "Fine, but tomorrow I have to work on this. I'll get dressed, but I'm not putting in a bit of effort."

"Off you go." Daphne says.

* * *

Time is broken up into two categories now: before the rooftop, and after. There's no reason for it to affect her still, Hermione tells herself, but it's impossible to push from her mind, so she stops trying. It's to Daphne's relief that Hermione no longer looks so down, and Hermione thinks her friend may believe there'd been more to the night then there was.

It's not a missed connection, or whatever Daphne wants to think. It's mortifying, but it's even worse to know that Draco Malfoy has certainly given her the best kiss of her life, and now there's a possibility no one else will ever measure up. If it sounds dramatic, it's because it is, but there's much more on her mind than the man.

She'll work through her course load steadily, and the only time left for those thoughts to sneak in will be the moments where she finally crawls into bed. Which isn't all that often either.

Hermione's pleased with the plan as a way to get over the embarrassment that's decided to stay, and it works for exactly two days until she walks into her lecture. It's nine days post-rooftop when she spots him standing at the front of the room, back turned to her, and his hands tucked lazily into his trouser pockets.

She'd know him even without the blond that threatens to blur out the rest of her vision. There's her heartbeat quickening in her chest, and she can hear blood rushing between her ears. Someone presses past her, muttering under their breath, and it pushes her forward as well.

Sinking into her seat, Hermione swallows. Malfoy's ahead of her in his studies, so this can't be a class he's decided to take. There's no doubt that he's _already_ taken it. Where she's a grad student working through her masters, he's working toward his doctorate. So, she thinks simply, there's no reason for him to be here.

Perhaps Malfoy knows Professor Snape, or it's for a letter of recommendation.

Hermione does her best to not stand out, and to make her face blank because she knows he'll notice her anyway if he turns around. Which, he'll have to in order to leave.

She reviews yesterday's notes, and chews on the cap of her pen. She's only half listening as Professor Snape begins, his voice carrying over the hall, and she doesn't look up because she can see that Malfoy's turned.

And he's turned toward her. If she looks up, there's no doubt he'll be looking right at her. She can feel it down to her bones, and it's a ridiculous effort not to fidget in place.

Hermione thinks she can keep the act up until Malfoy exits the room until she hears what's actually been said.

"You'll be able to direct any questions you may have for me through Mr. Malfoy, or through Mr. Welch If neither of them are able to assist, refer to the office hours on the syllabus."

Hermione's head snaps up. "Sweet fucking Christ," she hisses under her breath. Not low enough though, because the person to her right gives her an odd look. She's right again though.

Malfoy is staring directly at her, and she doesn't like the way the corner of his mouth twitches at all.

* * *

She's not going to drop the class in an effort to be taught by another professor. Daphne had known that even as Hermione snapped that it was an option, and anything would be better than seeing _him_ every day. Unfortunately, the university would have to make an exception for her, and she'd have to give an adequate reason.

This would do it too, but she doesn't want to do that either. It's that combined with the fact that Severus Snape is the better professor than Slughorn. Far better, truthfully.

And no one is going to make her change her plans, especially not Draco fucking Malfoy.

Lectures are spent with her eyes on her paper, and on Professor Snape. There's once that her eyes stray because Malfoy made a sudden movement, but he caught her, and her face caught fire. She doesn't look at him anymore, regardless of how tempting it might be.

* * *

With the repeat prayer in her mind that he will not be there, Hermione sucks in a breath and knocks on Snape's office door. A breath passes before, "Come in," slips through the crack under the door. She nearly walks away.

She curses under her breath, and slowly lets herself in. "Is this a bad time? I won't take much of your time."

It's a pleasure to see his eyes widen at the sight of her, but a shiver slides down her spine as his eyes then sweep her up and down. "It's not a problem. How can I help you?" Malfoy stands in one fluid moment, and as he rounds the desk, she wishes he would have stayed sitting.

Hermione stays near the door, and he leans against the front of the desk he's taken over. "I looked over the syllabus, but I didn't find the answer. What is the earliest I can turn the current paper in?"

When he blinks, it feels like he's taking her in all over again when he opens his eyes. Hermione hates it. "The paper isn't due for another month, Granger." Malfoy grimaces and she knows why. Using her last name is a crack in this facade they're both playing.

It's easier to pretend they don't know one another, but he's called her by her last name for as long as she can remember, and this crack is wide enough to continually chip until everything else rushes in.

It's even easier to be rude, even when maybe he doesn't deserve it, but it's the best defense she has. "I read the syllabus, Mr. Malfoy; I'm well aware of it's due date. I have a larger assignment due in the same week, and I wondered if it would be possible for me to submit earlier."

He's still looking at her in an odd way, and she feels much smaller than she is. Even leaning against the desk, Malfoy's so much taller than her. He crosses his ankles, and slips his hands into his pockets.

He does that a lot, nearly every time she's seen him, and Hermione wonders if it's a tell. Whether that means he's nervous, or irritated to see her, or something _else_ , she doesn't know.

"Two weeks before," Malfoy says easily, softly. It's an intimate sound, and not one fit for the room they're in. So she looks over his head at the large window behind his desk, and then at the built in shelves that line the walls of Professor Snape's office. If he weren't there, it's a place she'd like to be. "Will that be sufficient?"

Her nod is stiff. Their words are professional. Their body language is not.

She's angled herself toward him without thinking, and so has he. It's like a mirror. What she does, he'll do. Hermione lingers despite wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there, and then she sighs. "I'm sorry if this is awkward."

Malfoy's expression shutters, and she wishes she'd never said a word. "What would be awkward about it?"

Wrapped in a question, Hermione recognizes the dare. It's better to turn around. She's said her apology, and she can't control whether or not he wants to take it seriously, or to even accept it. She doesn't answer the question, but she takes the bait anyway. "Look, I'm sorry that it turned out badly, and I didn't mean to upset you. All of that aside, I had a good night that night before, well, everything else."

It's the biggest lie she's ever told in that moment. Sure, drinking and playing that game had been so much fun it had led to the next thing, but the best part of the night was him kissing her.

Malfoy's eyes narrow, then sharpen, and her heart hammers in her chest. "Right." He drags out that syllable, stretches it until she wishes another student would knock on the door. "I'd like to say the same, Granger but it turns out that I'm not as good at guessing the lies as I thought I was. If you don't mind, I have quite a bit to do before office hours are done. Will that be all?"

Hermione hates leaving him with the last word, but she doesn't say another word as she turns, and ducks out of the office. She can't imagine what she would have said if she'd wanted to defend herself.

* * *

It doesn't make any sense.

His anger makes sense, but his words don't line up no matter how many times she tries to make them.

Daphne's key turns in the lock at five until seven, and Hermione is waiting in the living room, on her feet, arms folded across her chest. "Is Theo with you?"

Slowly closing the door behind her, Daphne shakes her head. She tosses her keys in the dish. "No. What's wrong?"

"I think I've fucked up." Hermione joins Daphne on the sofa, crossing her legs under her, and runs through the story. "I don't understand what he meant, unless I've misunderstood everything from the start."

Daphne's eyes are wide in what looks like horror, but she also looks like she may be seconds from bursting into laughter too. "You told me it was a mistake!"

"I thought it was!" Hermione's voice jumps up, and she grimaces. "He was stopping us, and I thought that maybe he believed it might have been a mistake, so I wanted to be in front of that without embarrassing myself even more, and…"

Shaking her head, Daphne sinks her fingers into her hair. "Let me get this straight. Since you thought Draco would tell you it was a mistake, you decided to treat it as one so you wouldn't be embarrassed?"

"It hasn't done me much good."

"No, it hasn't. If anything, it's more embarrassing now." Daphne pulls her hands from her hair, and taps her fingers against the back of the couch. "Let's clear this up, shall we? Draco never thought it was a _mistake_. Now, he didn't tell me, but he told Theo, and I overheard that conversation. The two of you were drunk, Hermione. You much more so, and Draco didn't want to have sex if you were drunk."

Oh.

_Oh._

"Fuck." Hermione whispers. "When he saw me, he must have thought I was blowing him off."

"Probably not the way he wanted you to blow him, really."

" _Daphne_." Hermione hisses. "No wonder he was so angry earlier."

Nodding, Daphne says, "Well, now that you know, it should be no problem to sort it out. Theo really thinks the two of you hit it off, and it sounded like Draco really… What is it?"

"I don't want a relationship, or whatever it would have been with Draco. It's asking for a disaster, especially after this."

The corner of Daphne's mouth drags down into a frown, and she starts to disagree, but then she sighs. "I think you should give it a chance. You seemed so happy when we found you, but if this is what you want then I support that."

Hermione pulls at a stray string of the sofa, silently promising herself that this is exactly what she wants—what she needs, truthfully. "It's better, I think."

"Is that because of school, or because you're scared?"

Hermione doesn't know, but she says, "My studies are the most important thing right now." She says it because it's true, but also because she can't even begin to unpack the second end of the question.

* * *

From her seat, Hermione ponders a few things. She wonders how the man in the seat three rows behind her was ever accepted into a grad program. He chats constantly and he's a thorn in their professor's side. She wonders whether or not she's made the right decision in not explaining the full—albeit embarrassing—truth about ghosting Malfoy.

When he glances her way, it always feels like an accident. An afterthought, until he's already staring at her, and he doesn't tear his eyes away. Hermione would like to hate these moments because they make her so uncomfortable, and because she can't look away. She continues to scribble notes in short hand, lines of penmanship beginning to veer off the line because she can't stop.

Sometimes it almost feels like a treat when his face softens until he catches his momentary lapse. Other times, he looks colder than she's ever seen. Pinched features, and his hand curling into a tight fist on top of the desk. No one else would think of it, or think it's connected to her. It feels like a secret, one that she likes a little too much, and telling his moods apart becomes a game she should not play because she knows she'll lose.

Hermione remembers him from when they were younger. When they were children, and he, four years older than her, was a tremendous prat. Four years was a larger gap than it is now. From twelve to sixteen versus their now twenty-three and twenty-seven. It's been a long time since they've hurled jokes about frizzy hair, and pointy features.

No, they've moved on to something that feels worse in every single way.

On a day where he's dressed in a proper suit that's tailored to fit him in all the ways she's yet to imagine—until now—Hermione's treated to a small cluster of girls giggling about how fit he is. Malfoy overhears them, shoots them that grin that could make her heart stop, and Hermione busies herself with _not_ getting caught looking. It doesn't matter. Not at all.

When Malfoy's been their teaching assistant for close to three weeks, Hermione thinks she'll be able to get through the rest of the semester. They've settled into a weird agreement. The silent kind because God knows they haven't talked since that day in the office.

She takes her seat when she arrives, doesn't look at him. Pretends that she's not doing everything in her power _not_ to look at him while she takes dutiful notes as Snape carries on. He looks bored—which she can't tell if it's because he _is_ or if it's a mask—and this goes on all the way up until one of them breaks. It's usually her that looks first.

It's always because she's felt his eyes on her, and finally, she can't stand the sensation of it anymore. So she looks, and when she does, Malfoy's never fucking looking at her. It's as though he knows just when she'll cave, so he looks away, and then he's able to pretend that she's the one staring.

It's infuriating.

* * *

They're going back and forth anyway, so Hermione starts at the beginning again, and considers apologizing. Daphne agrees that she should, but it's painfully clear that all Daphne wants is to get the two of them in a room and for what, Hermione doesn't think about.

Daphne does point out though that Hermione's intimidating. Not always the easiest to approach, and it had taken some gall on Draco's end to plot with Theo in order to get her alone that night. It had backfired, obviously in more ways than one, but Hermione can't shake the knot in her stomach that only grows tighter every time she sees him.

She'll apologize. Eventually. When she gets to it. Hermione ignores Daphne when she points out that she'll drag her feet until she doesn't do it all. But then what difference would it make really?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! There will be another chapter in about two weeks, but I hope you'll tell me what you think! You can find me on tumblr at mrsren.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! Unfortunately no spice in this chapter, but I think there is in the next one if I remember right. Thank you to WordsmithMusings for looking over this chapter. It's better for it.

* * *

After she submits her paper, Hermione has every intention of spending a night at home with a wine bottle in hand, and watching reality television that's a guilty pleasure she's not likely to admit. Daphne tells her she's staying at Theo's for the night, and she'll be home in the morning. Hermione jokes for Daphne to not do anything she wouldn't do, even though that's a ridiculous statement coming from Hermione.

Daphne's gone with a spare few words, and Hermione waits for the jingle of her keys to disappear as her friend climbs down the steps of their flat.

An hour goes by. Half a bottle of wine in, Hermione curls her legs up beneath her, and pulls one of the decorative pillows close to her chest. It's not comfortable to sleep on—the beads get stuck in her hair and leave marks on her face—but she can't help but pull it flush against her as the bride argues with the mother-in-law over her dream dress. Call it cliché, call it whatever you want really, but Hermione's glued to the screen.

In the middle of a commercial break, while Hermione pours another glass of wine, there's a knock at the door. She looks toward the decorative dish on the table just inside the doorway. Daphne's keys are gone, so she hasn't forgotten them again. It's the split second of panic that always lands when there's a knock at the door, and you have no idea who's on the other side.

She leaves her glass, and pads across the room, her toes digging into the plush rug before she steps onto the carpet. When she hears the standard opening to the show, she means to answer the door in a hurry, let whoever it is know that they've got the wrong flat, and to have a good night so she can get back to her night alone.

The moment Hermione flings the door open—the same moment that she _doesn't_ stop the door from slamming into the wall—she wishes she'd looked through the peephole. The funny thing is that Malfoy looks just as surprised to see her, as though this isn't her flat, and he's not the one on her doorstep.

She regrets the pajamas too, and winces when hardened gray eyes sweep over her bare legs while his mouth presses into a thin line. She can feel the blood drain from her face, and Hermione's just as sure that all the color has gone with it too. "Malfoy, er—" Shifting her weight to the opposite foot, she truly thinks that she could just shut the door, but that's no good either. "Can I help you with something?"

The look he gives her could wither flowers. It's what it might have done to her, if she hadn't straightened up. "I'm here for Theo."

What she says is, "Right," and she steps to the side to let him in, but it doesn't make much sense. Hermione moves right past him, content to ignore him, and settles back onto the sofa.

When he does the same, but on the opposite sofa, she watches him look at the wine, then at her. "Granger, are you going to go get Theo, or tell him I'm here?"

She should have realized it the moment she opened the door, but the sight of him had scrambled her thoughts so quickly that she hadn't thought beyond the blind panic clawing its way up. It's a set-up and it cannot be a coincidence that Malfoy shows up when Daphne is with Theo. It seems Malfoy's been tricked as well. "I think we've been set up."

When he looks at her, up this close, it feels like he's looking through her instead. "Oh?"

"Theo was never here. Unless he's planning to meet you here, I think Daphne roped him into setting us up."

His voice is rough when he talks again. It's the same voice she's imagined in other moments, usually in the dark, under the covers, pretending the rooftop had never happened while simultaneously imagining what could have happened next. "And why would Daphne want to do that?"

"She's made it clear to me that she wants me to talk to you. So, here we are. What did Theo tell you?"

"He told me he needed a ride because his car didn't start. I even asked him if you'd be here. He said no." It cuts her, but the blunt way he says it only serves to make it worse. "There's nothing for us to talk about." Malfoy's voice is raw when he says this, and it goes straight through her.

She agrees. Well, there's the want to try and apologize for the gross misunderstanding even if it's humiliating, but Hermione can't form the words right now. She figures he'll let himself out of the flat, and she'll be left over analyze yet another run-in with this man.

He lingers though. He drums his fingers against his knee, and rakes his fingers through his hair, and when Malfoy looks at her, Hermione does not glance up. "You're watching this?"

"That's what it looks like, doesn't it?"

"It's…"

"Are you really in the position to be judging what I'm watching when you're in my flat, and neither of us want you to be?"

That shuts him right up, but only for the briefest of moments. He stalls by looking at the wine again, then her, and she wonders if he's recalling their night of drinking. She knows she is. Malfoy clears his throat, and digs his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. "What does Daphne want us to talk about?" The question sounds like it's being dragged out of him. He sounds just as uncomfortable as she feels.

Hermione is quieter than the tv when she begins, and then there's no stopping. "I made a mess of things. I thought that you weren't interested when you pulled back that night. Right before Theo and Daphne interrupted us. When I woke up the next morning, I was convinced you thought it was all a mistake because we'd been drinking, so I pretended that was the case in an effort to avoid embarrassment."

He's staring at her like he never has. Malfoy's mouth is hanging open now, and that familiar spark of anger is gone.

"I was actually sending you a message when I saw you the morning after, but you looked so angry that I never sent it. It's not as though we ever spoke either, so I didn't seek you out either. But then you became my TA, and it went off the rails, again."

"I looked angry because I was upset, Granger!"

"Yeah," she winces. "I'm getting that now."

He bounces his knee, and it's easier to focus on that than meeting his look of disbelief. "I don't think that's the only reason you avoided me. Truth or lie."

Hermione jerks as though she's been shocked. She's already embarrassed enough, but it will bother her if she keeps it locked in so she lets go instead. "No, that's not all but it doesn't matter now."

He looks at her, brow arched, and it's a question for her to continue without truly asking it.

"I'm fun when I've been drinking, but that's not who I am. Not really. I'm not an outgoing person, which has been a complaint from anyone I've ever met. We had fun together, but I wouldn't have been able to keep up with that."

Malfoy is flabbergasted. " _What?"_ She doesn't say anything. It feels like a rhetorical question. "You're wrong."

"You wouldn't know."

The ice melts away, and he laces his fingers together while bracing his elbows on his knees. "Look, I wasn't planning for it to go how it went. You rarely drink when you do come, but I knew I didn't want you to be the only one drunk, so I drank with you. All I was planning to do was ask you to dinner, but then you took me by surprise. I was too busy thinking I was the luckiest bastard alive to think about much else." Malfoy pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard. If he didn't sound so irritated, it would have been endearing. "If I'd pulled my head out of my arse long enough after, I probably could have put it together."

She shrugs, and offense flashes across his face.

"You don't believe me?"

"It doesn't matter. Considering you're my TA now, it wouldn't have worked out anyway." It should be it. This is the end of it now, fully unraveled since they've both said their piece.

Hermione pulls the pillow back against her chest, beads catching on the worn top she wears, and she looks over his head. From the edge of her vision, she can clearly see just how much that irritates him.

"It could work, if we wanted to try."

Her neck cracks when she looks at him too quickly. "No, it really couldn't." Not without sneaking around, and keeping things a secret. Hermione knows the next thing he's going to say before he says it, but it doesn't make it any easier.

No, easier would be if they were still at odds.

"There's no rule against it." Malfoy says. "I wouldn't grade your papers anymore. I'd pass them to Welch instead. There would be no academic lines crossed."

"You wouldn't report it to the university? Typically these relationships are required to be disclosed. If it weren't, you could…"

From the look on his face, Hermione doesn't believe she's going to get him to listen to reason. How have they gone to spitting venom to this so quickly?

"My peers would believe my marks are because of my relationship with you. No matter what the truth is, no one takes liars at their word. It would open us to scrutiny, and I don't want that cast on me. You would be in an even worse spot than me, and you would lose your position. You'd get a terrible reference, and the lashback is—" Her mouth forms the words, but she can imagine it anyway.

He must know that her words are an attempt to convince herself rather than him. It's clear what option he's chosen, if she's willing, by the way he's looking at her. Like he wants to cover her body with hers on this too small sofa, like he wants to hold her hands above her head until her throat is sore from crying out.

It's too easy for her mind to stray to awful, filthy thoughts when he's involved. It has to stop.

"It's not worth it." Hermione says finally, but it's with difficulty after clearing her throat.

His attempt at a smile resembles a grimace. "I think we'd be fantastic together, Granger. I respect that you don't want to give it a shot, but I had to put it out there." Malfoy stands then, and she wants to tell him to come back.

But logic wins out, so she lets him go and listens to his footsteps until she can't hear them anymore.

* * *

Without animosity to separate them, Hermione often feels his eyes on her during lectures. She rests her head in her hand at the end of a quiz, and glances up at him when no one else will notice. Malfoy doesn't turn his head, and he's flipping a pen between his fingers when he smirks.

Shutting him out is not an option, she's learned. A painful lesson she has swallowed _over and over_ again in the past month. She can recall the feel of his mouth on hers—soft, and then rough—the feel of his hands on her—slow, then pinning her down—and the way he sounds when he rasps her name. Knowing the miscommunication had been just that, her mind is left to explore all the ways it could have gone.

Sometimes she regrets letting him leave the flat, but she hasn't admitted it to anyone yet. Not Daphne, who's likely to stage a set-up all over again. Daphne, who had been put out to learn Hermione and Draco hadn't simply fallen into one another again. It had been close to being exactly that though, and Hermione's had plenty of time to think about how it would have been.

When Daphne drags the truth from her, she swears not to involve herself this time. Hermione only partially believes her. Over lunch, Daphne asks if she wants to try anyway. "Of course it's a bad idea, _right now,_ Hermione. It's only until the end of the semester though, and that will be here before you know it. Then you could go for it if you wanted. The real question is what do _you_ want?"

There's no use in saying she doesn't know, since she does. "I'm not ready to take that type of jump." Hermione says, and pushes her food around the plate. "Maybe at the end of the semester it could be different, but I don't think we'll see each other privately again, unless it's at another party." She hopes that will be the case, because she's not sure what would happen otherwise.

* * *

It's not one thing that pushes her over the edge, but all the small things. Secret smiles. Trapped thoughts beneath the sheets when she crawls between them at night. Uncontrollable fantasies in the middle of the day, and the heat creeping up her neck when she's pulled from one, and he looks at her as though he knows. Perhaps he's having the same thoughts as her.

Hermione hopes he does.

She's not ready to stumble into the deep end, but he's unshakable. It happens on a night she can't sleep, after her laptop is closed and left on the desk against the window. Hermione moves forward in her own way, in a more simple way.

He'll reply, or he won't. Unsure of which one she prefers, Hermione knows she won't be able to get any sleep after sending the message. It's in the middle of the night though, and she doubts he's awake to see it.

 **Hermione** (12:46AM): _Guess the lie. I prefer dogs over cats. I broke my leg when I was nine. My middle name is Jane._

He might know them all. They had grown up together, somewhat. When her phone vibrates under her pillow, she nearly knocks it into the floor while trying to grab it.

 **Draco** (1:02AM): _Your middle name is Jean._

 **Hermione** (1:03AM): _You know that?_

 **Draco** (1:05AM): _I know a surprising amount about you, Granger._

* * *

Hermione keeps the conversations to herself, but itches to tell Daphne each time she sees her. It's better not to, for now. It's better not to say anything in case it falls apart on her, but she knows how her friend would react to the news. Daphne's grin would be wild, and the words " _I told you so!"_ would fall out immediately.

There's nothing for Daphne to be right about, currently.

Hermione and Malfoy's relationship isn't a relationship—not in any real sense of the word. For fuck's sake, she still calls him Malfoy in her head, and she certainly would say it in person, if they talked face to face. Apparently it would take liquor to push her into calling him by his first name, and she would think it ridiculous if it weren't the same for him.

Her other problem isn't easily ignored, though nothing about him is. The last time they spoke to one another in person, he'd asked her to give them a chance. He hadn't said it outright—she's not sure she would have said no if he had—and it goes without saying that it still stands. Hermione can pick that out with every harmless message between them.

He's had his tonsils removed, she learns but not before she had at nine years old.

Malfoy learns that her parents were put out when she didn't pursue the field of dentistry.

Hermione's surprised with every message he replies too because she expects he'll tire of it sooner rather than later, but that's how she knows that nothing has changed. She can feel it down to her bones, and it's only solidified by the moments where his eyes pass over her during a lecture.

It never fails to drag the same reaction from her.

She squeezes her legs together and he notices. If she sinks her fingers into her hair, the corner of his mouth twitches as though he knows something she doesn't, and Hermione thinks that might be true. She just doesn't know what that is.

There's a certain thrill when she texts him during class. He teases her that she should really be paying attention, but Hermione realizes he must know just how well she's doing in the class. Malfoy seems like the type of man that would stop replying if she slipped.

Whether that's irritating or not, she can't decide.

No one around them knows. No one would ever suspect that when she picks up her phone, it's the TA that she's texting. It's infuriating that Malfoy actively tries not to glance her way when his phone buzzes, but she knows it's a struggle for him not to. That makes it a bit better.

 **Draco** (9:27 AM): _I've just graded your last assignment. Welch is hungover. I had a dream about you last night._

Against the habit she's created, Hermione's eyes snap toward him, and her mouth parts a fraction. He must see her from the corner of his eye, given that smug smirk that's curved his sullen mouth. Her fingers fly furiously across her screen.

 **Hermione** (9:29 AM): _You don't grade my assignments. Welch looks like he's going to vomit any moment. What was the dream about?_

 **Draco** (9:31 AM): _It would be terribly disgusting if he threw up in the middle of a lecture. Do you think Snape would make him clean it himself? I think he would._

 **Hermione** (9:32AM): _The dream, Malfoy._

**Draco (9:32AM):** _I can hear you saying my name so clearly._

Heat pools in her stomach, and then it tightens. She watches the bouncing ellipses, and waits until the next message pops up. At the head of the room, to the side, she can see his fingers moving leisurely across his own screen, and she wants to scream.

**Draco (9:34AM):** _We're friends, aren't we, Granger?_

Her last name is unnecessary, but it slides along her spine like a caress. Like how she imagines his fingers would feel if they ever got that far—the pads of his fingers gliding over every inch, every bump of her spine.

 **Hermione** (9:35AM): _Sure._

**Draco (9:37AM):** _It's not the sort of dream friends have of each other._

Hermione's throat runs dry, and Malfoy turns his mobile upside down. It's akin to the world being turned upside down all over again, and where she'd believed herself to be in control, he'd taken over.

In their game of cat and mouse, some days he's the mouse—or she likes to think so—but today it is undoubtedly her, and she's been caught.

Tomorrow is a new day though, and the smug look she can see from here makes her want to reach up and take it for herself.

**Author's Note:**

> While this was pre-read for plotting, it was not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I'd love to promise you weekly updates, but I started classes last Monday and my psychology class is already murdering me, so I'll do my best for every two weeks! I share snippets on Tumblr and on Facebook if you're friends with me there.
> 
> Another note: when I started writing this, I had not started my classes. Now that I have (even though I am an undergrad) I realize that Hermione would not have time for going after dick. However, this is fanfiction but the entire time I write now, I am staring at my laptop like "there's no fucking way…" 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at mrsren!


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